Hermione
by Mandi19
Summary: A meeting of two Hermiones, one 11 and the other 17. A prologue to the story "Stark," though familiarity with story is unnecessary. Oneshot. References to DH. R&R please!


_A Prologue to _Stark

The bushy haired girl looked up from her books. Draco Malfoy sat at the table across from her. He was sneering at her again. The goons at his side snickered, careful to hide their disruption from the watchful eyes of Snape. She sighed and returned to her studies, putting a hand over half of her face while she leaned over. Who knew that her first year at Hogwarts would be like this?

Stupid Malfoy. I hope he fails his next charm exam.

The studies at Hogwarts were challenging enough for the first-year prodigy. They kept her on her toes. But so, too, did the prejudiced Draco Malfoy and many of the Slytherin house. They loathed her Muggle roots, and followed Draco in whatever he said about her. She continued perusing her books. Her mind just would not concentrate on what she read. It unnerved her greatly.

Draco's face was just inches about every word she read, and it became obvious to Hermione that this was not going to be one of those quiet afternoons in the study hall ruminating on wizard history. She got up and gathered her things, stacking her books and hugging them to her chest, her school robe waving behind her as she hurriedly exited the hall, mumbling an excuse to Snape as she went. Her steps took her in a direction that she couldn't quite place on her mental map. Was it the way to the library or to the dining hall? She couldn't remember. But neither did some footsteps behind her. She heard them alternate their paces to match her own. She suddenly braced herself.

"Oh, Mudblood," a familiar voice hissed behind her.

She kept walking.

An oily laugh squirmed into her ears, making her shiver. She knew only to ignore him. He was in bad need of detention anyways.

"Going off to shag that Potter of yours?"

The snickers that followed told her there was more than just two behind her. She blindly quickened her steps, feeling a book slowly drop from her arms and onto the floor. She halted and turned around. Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, was bending over for the lost book. They both stood on either side of the blonde Slytherin with their arms crossed. They were trying to look intimidating. Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes and reach out violently for the book. She had never felt so scared, and defensive.

"Give that book to me, Malfoy!" She ordered, almost touching the book cover before it was yanked above her head.

She strained her arm higher for it, before Crabbe and Goyle closed in, cutting off Draco from her reach. Draco let the pages flip like a fan, dangling it by its cover. Pieces of paper fluttered out. Hermione simmered in her irritation.

"Malfoy!" She almost screamed. Almost. It came out more as a growl instead.

Her eyes felt hot as she scowled at the blonde behind the barricade of chubby shoulders. His goons were not half as intelligent as Draco, Hermione thought. Funny how one's friends reflect one's true self.

Draco merely smirked at her position and began to thumb through the pages, tearing one as he turned it too severely. "Oops!" He smiled. "Do you know what my favorite passage is in this textbook?" He asked, flipping to a page that he had obviously memorized. He paused, his eyes gleaming. "This one," he said with the sides of his mouth raising into a smug grin. He cleared his throat and began reading. "'It is well observed that this phenomenon of second generation hybrid Leekers makes a comment on the unsuccessful pairing of two ill-matched species…It is therefore incomplete, being unable to be classified as a Beaker or a Leerand. It is socially and biologically flawed." His eyes suddenly met hers. "'Incomplete,'" he repeated. "'Flawed.'" He slowly walked over to her, Crabbe and Goyle parting like a sea for its Moses. "'Unable to be classified.'"

He shut the book with a loud clap. Handing it towards Hermione, he dropped it at the last moment, just as her fingertips felt its heat, making it fall again to the floor. The book cover tore at its binding. The three Slytherins laughed loudly as she hurriedly bent to retrieve it. Turning around, Goyle kicked a strayed piece of paper. The three strolled languidly down the hall, laughing as they went. No one had witnessed the attack.

Hermione was silent in her pain. She hated crying, especially in public. She looked around as she gathered the loose papers. Even if there was no one present.

She crammed the papers inside the torn cover of the violated book. She unconsciously wiped at the cover's title, as though trying to wipe away Draco's words from her mind. She stood up and turned back towards the direction she was initially headed. The other way promised another meeting with Draco, and her tear ducts probably couldn't handle another reunion. She walked quickly ahead, forging through the hallways until she came to the entrance to the library. She made a mental note to remind herself of its location in respect to the dining hall. She had to stop wandering around like a first-year student all the time.

She pushed past an exiting Ravenclaw, greeting the mixed smells that come with thousands of books with relief. She slowed a bit to meander past some bookshelves and reading tables to reach a far-off corner, between two large and droll bookshelves, one where she could hunch over her books alone and undisturbed. She closed her eyes as her back hit the wall and she slunk down, her head burying itself in her arms on her raised knees. She exhaled and squeezed her closed lids, blanking from the experience of a few minutes earlier.

She could still hear his oily laugh, though.

When she opened her lids finally, it was dark in her corner. The candelabrum on the wall was lit. I must have dozed, she thought. She made a move to stand up, but the movement made her wince. Her limbs were stiff from sitting so long. A shadow jolted her. It fell across the dark stack of books at Hermione's feet. The bushy-haired girl looked up, wary-eyed.

A girl's voice came from the shadow. "Oh, my." It was breathy, and thick. "Hermione," she whispered, sounding strangled.

Hermione stood up. "Yes?" She peered at the shadows. "Who are you? It's too dark." She moved forward towards the darkened figure.

The girl from beyond the shadows took a step forward, a pale light now touching her form. She was slender with wavy brown hair, a few inches taller than the eleven-year-old. Her eyes were slightly lined with mascara. She was an older girl, sixteen, seventeen maybe. She looked down at the first-year student with a strange look in her eyes. Her chest moved up and down slowly.

Hermione squinted at the face. It was so familiar. But she had never seen this girl before, or at least, talked to her. There was something odd about the moment as they spoke.

"I was looking for something and must have gotten lost…" the older girl's voice trailed off, staring at Hermione. The older girl was still young looking, and so very pretty to Hermione.

Hermione shifted, glancing away for a moment. The girl's expression was so strange, almost confused. "What were you looking for? I've spent a lot of time in here. I could probably help."

The older girl looked around. Her jeans threw Hermione. It was unusual during school hours to see such casual clothing. But then again, maybe it was later than she had thought.

The older girl looked at Hermione. "Do you come to this corner often? To be alone?"

Hermione raised her chin defiantly. "I come here as often as it pleases me. There are some places that make studying much easier without all the raucous and immaturity of many of the students here."

The older girl smiled. Hermione breathed in sharply. The shape of her lips were her own. "You're so young still. You don't need to study so much, I'm sure. What about friends?"

Hermione was suddenly bothered. "I have friends! They're just…not interested in books as much as I am. I must keep up my studies to become an accomplished witch. It's important to have a brilliant start in one's education."

The older girl still wore a small smile. Her arms were folded in front of her. "It's important, too, to have good chums your first year, especially when there are so many that would like that to not happen." After a pause, she suddenly reached out to Hermione. "You've been crying. Draco Malfoy at it again?"

Hermione only lowered her head when the older girl touched her cold cheek. She might have let a few tears loose before she dozed. She didn't quite remember. The older girl continued speaking, removing her hand.

"He's a hard case, that Draco. Always trying to be superior to the situations that confuse him the most."

Hermione looked at the girl in front of her. Her matured curves still bore a resemblance to the girl she once was. Hermione looked down at herself and then back up to the so familiar stranger in front of her. "What would make him stop? He's such a bigot. A hopeless one at that. He hurts me without cause and even my friends…" she breathed, "…my friends hardly understand that I'm not all books and facts. I want them to know that I'm able to help them, to stand by them."

The older girl widened her smile. "They'll realize that soon enough, Hermione, as long as you're yourself with them. I know it's hard not to wish to be different." She unfolded her arms, her voice more intense but still quiet. "You will love him Hermione, and it will change you."

Hermione looked at her wildly. She wasn't quite sure who the older girl was talking about.

Her voice was almost hollow as she continued. "The person that you are is the only way to captivate him. It will reach down inside of him, pulling his innards up to the surface, exposing your shared daydreams and desires. You're so young, so much yet to come..." Her eyes became distant. "The shift between the two of you will be tangible, Hermione. You'll know when to stop doubting." She raised a few fingers to touch her lips. The shadows behind the older girl made her brown hair seem bigger than it was, almost bushy. Hermione could hardly speak with the girl's name so close to her lips.

"I have some questions, but I don't know how to say them," Hermione began, suddenly emotional. "I don't quite understand…"

The older girl was so pretty when she smiled. Her eyes were soft. "I suddenly remembered when I saw you sitting in this old corner. A nighttime meeting and twin smiles…a fated mistake." Her older eyes rested on a spot behind Hermione. "I don't hate him." Hermione noticed the girl take something from her pocket. Her closed palm hid it from view. "With everything that happens…it all changes. Everything, everyone…" She paused, looking directly into Hermione. "Always love Harry. Always love Ron." She stepped back into the shadows, becoming invisible.

Hermione haltingly stepped towards the darkness. She wondered when her toothy mouth would become so pretty. She turned her head towards a shadowy movement to her left. Two young people stood silently kissing. Their forms were a ghostly blue color, hands like silver and their faces partially hidden. One was a handsome young man, shirtless, with almost-white hair; the paleness of his skin was moon-like in the bluish glow. The other was a girl with a tangle of dark curls hiding her face. With the shadows one could almost call the tendrils bushy. Their hands roamed over each other's backs and they held each other so closely, like they wouldn't be whole if separated. Hermione turned her eyes from them, embarrassed that her future self had left such a tangible memory for Hogwarts to absorb into its seams. The image was too potent. It was eternal and it was misplaced.

Hermione hugged herself and turned to gather her books. She did not look at the bluish couple as she left her corner, nor at the bent-over heads of late night study groups. The couple in the shadows became smudged, melting into the air Hermione exhaled as she stepped outside into the hall. She did not want to taste their kisses anymore. They smelled too much of ashes. She had too much studying to do and other things to worry about. Why did their love smell ash-like, Hermione thought. But she didn't want to think about it anymore. She was beginning to feel a tear inside of her, and to think about the older girl and her bluish words was to tear herself in two. She didn't quite know how to handle that.

She walked quickly down the hallway to her quarters, feeling the night of the library corner follow her in whispers, watching and waiting for the blue couple to become flesh and the kisses to smell of life.

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**A/N:** _Stark_ is available on my author page. Review this prologue separately though, please! Thanks!

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